The Fifth Facet
by MetalMike
Summary: As a relapse of hepatitis has a dangerous effect on Will's memory, the Drews begin to break through the bonds on their memory. *CHAPTER 4 AND 5 UP!!*
1. Forgotten

A/N: Okay, okay. I know I need to update my other fics. But...I dont have as much control over my writing as I would like to. I dont want to use the now cliche word 'inspired', but I am simply not motivated to finish them yet. It's somewhat of a selective Writer's Block :P But I can't just leave the DiR world permenantly, can I? So...here's a short story. It starts a few years after SotT, and holds true to it's ending - that the Drews forgot about Merry, but remembered about Bran and Will. Here's hoping that I finish it. =)  
  
Silence wafted into the open window and poured over a 15 year old boy slumped in a chair. An hour ago, he had still known about his post as Watchman of the Light; an hour ago, he had known his name. A voice like a wisp floating in his dreams - an old voice speaking with no hint of an accent, yet a sense that his native tounge was one much different then the plain English - fell lazily into Will's ear. "This is our Watchman?" The voice melted into the back of his mind, tugging at a name being surpressed by the relapse of hepatitis. "Get up, boy. You have work to do."  
  
Jane was thinking about anything but Will Stanton when Barney stumbled absentmindedly through her open door. His eyes flickered everywhere, his focus being on an object of fascination somewhere in his mind. Jane eyed him before lightly telling him to wake up. He glared at her for only an instant before shaking his head and sitting on a chair.  
"Jane, I had the most super dream a moment ago."  
Jane blinked once at Barney's sudden transition, then again at his choice of words. "Take a nap like I told you, then?"  
"Well, yes...but not because you told me to, see...." -Jane was rolling her eyes.  
"Oh, come off it-"  
"Jane," he said, cutting her off, "did we know anyone who looked like this?" And he drew from his coat an amazing sketch of a white-haired man with a beak-like nose and hollow eyes. Jane was taken aback at the ferocity of the man depicted in the picture, it was in all a very powerful drawing. She just glanced at Barney in awe.  
"Well?"  
"...Barney, where'd you learn to draw like that?"  
Barney knew Jane would immediately recognise the style of the paper, but if was only a few years back, he would never had recieved credit for the picture. It was amazing how fast Barney's talent had become recognised by the Drew household.  
"Come on, you're dodging the question," he said impatiently. "Look, I had this dream, and I made that picture just afterwards-I don't think I could have without the timing."  
Jane hestiantly set the picture down, as if it were a glass sheet that could break at a glance. She looked at Barney's flushed face, and suddenly was filled with a sensation that she imagined one would feel when they had amnesia. The face was obviously familiar - how could one forget the distinctive, hawk-nosed  
face? - but as she tried to pull more from her memory she found a cold bar restraining her from the details. Barney studied her face grimly, obviously he knew exactly what she felt.  
"There's more." Barney began. "Do you remember our trip to Wales?"  
Jane nodded and thought of a tall mountain and the two young men they had met in the course of the journey. But details eluded her in the same mysterious way as the picture haunted her. She remembered the name Will Stanton, but had forgotten all else. And Barney understood, again. As she struggled to remember, she was struck with the face of the boy with brown hair - his chin making him look so much like the picture lying on the desk...  
And elsewhere, the man in that picture worried alone in a light hall. He had left a sliver of memory in the Drews, hoping that if the need came they could reawakened without much trouble. But the need for them had him lost in thought, and something still needed to be done for Will.  
  
Will awoke suddenly, his eyes snapped open, alert; the boy leapt out of his chair as if he had sensed a sudden threat. He stared savagely around the empty, dusty room. Where the hell was he? Come to think of it, who was he? His memory had deteriorated so rapidly, but his health had returned, and so he left the isolation room and wandered out of the hospital, somehow slipping around so honestly that he looked like he belonged there. He couldn't have felt more out of place.  
The Old Speech was in his head, echoing - he could barely understand it anymore. A slight premonition of danger was all he had before he felt a heavy object land squarely on his head.  
  
A/N: More later, I need to reread some of this material...I'm not great at writing characters that aren't my own without reading them constantly :P  



	2. And One

A/N: Yo! Here's another chapter to keep you busy. I had it ready since V-day, but ffnet decided to time it's split just to piss me off. =P  
  
There is a certain tribe that once lived in the Carribean in which the custom was that memory loss could be cured by hitting the victim on the head with whatever they last remembered. If Will had an inkling of his knowledge as an Old One, he would have realised that whether or not the custom held any merit, it had curiously just happened to him. His current earliest memory held a picture of the tree that had passed by as he was brought into the hospital, and a heavy branch had just fallen off of it. Whether or not it was his silent watcher Merriman who had it fall or not, he soon awoke with a more complete memory. His name and purpose still eluded him, but he now could at least think logically.  
Merriman nodded gravely from his perch over the orb, and pulled back - the magic did not have to be wasted for much longer. Will could fend for himself, at least until the Drews could be lured to the same general area as him. A letter would do well, he thought. Then the games would finally conclude and the real struggle could begin.  
He stared sadly at the once full Well. Once the root of all his magic, it was now the root of all his troubles. The Well now held less then a pint of it's waters, and even this would be drained by the time the quest was through. All he had striven to prevent had looked at him with one eyed cocked and strode by, ignoring his best efforts, leaving the fate of all things good in the hands of five children without memories. The last straw for Merriman was the constant reminder that the issue of the memories had been caused by him, and him alone. Even Will's hepatitis had been originally sent by the Light to move him into Wales.  
Well, he wasn't responsible for it's relapse. At least one thing could not be traced for him. Thank Arthur for that.  
  
Barney had had a full day of constant shuffling about to forget the picture and doubts of the night before. Always he had been the one to lose to his older siblings - Simon had to be picked up from the station, Jane needed to be driven elsewhere, and Barney had to sit in the car like a lump of weeds. It seemed to him that the only useful thing he did was grow.  
The environment was most probably what made Barney persue sketching, as his revelation of a sketch was the only time when he was noticed at all. And the constant driving certainly gave him time.  
So when his parents mentioned something about a 'letter from Lyon' he thought nothing of it and simply slid into the car with Jane and now Simon, who, on break, really had nothing better to do. The weather had not been able to make up it's mind recently, which Barney's mind danced on as he met the chilling wind. He had grabbed a pad and a few pencils the moment before.  
The ride was oddly silent. Jane thought that somebody had positively died. Of course, she thought that often; her family was not very talkative. And Barney drew some random works for a good fifteen minutes or so before coming to rest on the odd object of his memory.  
He wondered if he could not get another picture from the back of his mind. Placing the pad on his lap, he slowly brought the pencil down to the blank paper, willing his mind to begin without him. The pencil moved, slowly, and Barney was almost simply watching it draw. He had no sense of surprise; it was expected.  
The picture centered on a large tree. Around it stood six people - he could recognise his own face quite well, as well as those of his sister and brother. All held a Sign - a sign? Yes, a Sign, but clearly his mind spoke it with a capitalized letter - a circle, with a cross down it's center, cutting it into four sections.  
And what was this? A boy with a sword. Barney had not colored the picture, but he felt that if he had, this boy would need not be colored at all. He was simply glowing off the paper.   
Barney's head sagged a bit...his mind scattered. The picture grew in his eyes and enveloped them.  
_He heard Simon shout behind the tree, and it felt like the first sound he had heard in ages.  
Will's hands went to his neck, hearing Merriman's silent command; he tore off the circle of Signs. "SIX SIGNS SHALL BURN! Take them each, and circle the tree!"  
Barney reached over and seized his - the rowan-born sign of Wood - the gold had melted away like wax. And they stood brave and quivering against the threat of the Riders looming before them._  
Suddenly with a jolt he remembered it all. Images came flooding into him as the dam in his mind finally snapped. They flashed before him, needing only an instant to become as familiar as the dew he found on the grass each morning. They stopped on the face of the boy they had met at Trewissick.  
"WILL!"  
Barney's eyes shot open, he tumbled forward - there in the road was indeed Will Stanton, who had suddenly become visible in the deep fog. He stared at the car as if he didn't really understand what it was, and then leapt aside.  
Barney's father swerved around, the car spun and slammed into a rock jutting from the road. Will was lucky for the second time that day, for he had hit his head square on a rock he had seen before.   
Simon and his father approached the boy, not sure whether to help or to kill him. Jane sat still, pale as if she had seen a ghost. And Barney's mind exploded in pain, finally accepting what he now knew to be true.  
  
A/N: Review or turn into a large mole. Actually, that would make you not be able to read the rest, so never mind. *takes away voodoo spell*  
  



	3. Reading My Eyes

A/N: This chapter is oddly short - not in length, but as in not much happens yet. S'probably because I'm exhausted, thanks to shoveling snow for hours. Stupid snowstorm - we had more then two feet that needed to be cleared.   
  
Will felt the pictures rush at him backwards.  
Slipping away from the tree after Bran's sword placed the new, uncut silver bud back in it's place. Sitting on the train rushing backwards. Back into the Lost Land now - the waters ceased and soon he was on his horse, riding with Bran.  
"Not so pretty as Jane, that one who threw it."  
The silent rush had halted suddenly. Will had not reached far back enough to remember Jane.  
"As who?" Will said.  
"Jane Drew. Don't you think she's pretty, then?"  
_Oh._ spoke Will's mind. _Right...I remember Jane._  
And it all came backwards again. Flowing over him rapidly, making up for lost time. It was quickly becoming too fast to distinguish anything but flashes of light and one image of a beautiful golden harp.   
Ah...thats right. There they were - Simon, Jane, and Barney. In a half second he knew more about them then their parents probably did. The images came as such until he had regained what he had lost. The only problem was that his head was killing him.  
Finally he awoke and felt Simon and his father pulling him to his feet. His eyes had rolled back into his head earlier, but they finally had turned around again, giving instead a cold stare - weathered eyes in a yound body.  
"Ah...Simon and Mr. Drew." he said calmly. He slipped between them and back toward the car while both eyed him curiously. Both were finally experiencing that strange tug of the mind that Barney and Jane had already been exposed to.  
"I heard someone call my name," he said out loud while peering into the car. His eyes slid over Barney and his very pale mother, and then he spotted Jane and looked away rather too quickly. He finally noticed the familar stare Barney was giving him, and so he stepped to the other side of the car and let Barney open the window.  
"Will," Barney whispered softly, as if he was afraid he would wake someone up. "Why can I remember? Are they back?"  
"No!" Will replied too quickly, almost with a laugh. "No, they cannot be back." He blinked and frowned. "But I think some of their treachery may remain." He glanced up to Jane. "Does she remember?"  
Barney shook his head. "I only came back just now, she knows very little still." Jane was somewhat frozen in her cold stare at Will, she had no idea how to act in such a position. Mrs. Drew was pretending to be very interested in the gas gauge.  
"That," Will spoke suddenly, "Can be fixed."  
All the lights in the car blinked off, the wind died down. Jane suddenly felt exceedingly alone.  
  
Off in a hall of Light sat old Merlion. His hood was pulled over his head, his age - which had been ever present - now stood out like a sore thumb. He had hoped Will would not have to use any more precious magic on Jane, but he could see that the bond he had placed on Jane's mind had been stronger then what he had to do to the boys. Jane had always been constantly aware of Will's presence, as if every action was done for the benifit of It would take a strong force to make Jane ever forget Will again.  
He decided not to dwell on the subject long. Bran might be a problem. The boy was alone in Wales without anyone to help him with the secrets that lay untapped within his mind. And his bond had been the most powerful of all, it had to strip him of his birthright as well as his memory.   
Who could he call upon? The Lady's strength was fading as the Well emptied, and Bran's father was not the type you used for such important matters. Besides, to have anyone travel at all would use drops of the Well's magic that Meririman could not afford to waste.  
So instead he came back to the orb he had been by before, the one that let him watch the world. He had not used it for ages...but he now called the picture of Bran into the glass sphere.  
To his surprise, the White Crow stood upon the cliff face overlooking Llyn Mwyngil, the pleasant lake. The wind rushed around him as he stared, eyes penetrating the water. Merriman grinned. It would take only a small enchantment to be sure of Bran's return.  
Slowly, in a voice that sounded like it had not been used in ages, he mumbled the words of an enchantment. And the harp, lying at the bottom of the lake, began to play softly.  
Bran's ears perked at the crystal clear sound reverbrating from the lake. The sound rippled on the water and into the air in an achingly sweet cry of calm. The lilting notes caused the whole scene to become vividly perfect. Bran stared at the water, becoming painfully aware of the sacrifice he had made to be in this place again. It did not come as a rush of images or a tug in the back of his mind - rather as if a second pair of eyelids had opened up behind his own for the first time. He merely came to be aware of who he was and what he had been destined to do.  
There was much more of a presence around Bran suddenly - the feeling the Drews had described as making them feel like bowing to the strangely regal figure. As Merriman eased the enchantment away, the sharp, vivid quality faded from his surroundings, but never left the figure standing on the cliff. Merriman used the last bit of magic he could afford to waste on one mind.  
"_Go!_" He spoke into Bran's mind. "_I will call you when you are needed_."  
Bran nodded to himself and walked cooly away from the scene of the pleasant lake, back to the Clwyd Farm he now saw was not his natural home.  
  
A/N: It might sound like a stupid coincidence that Bran happened to be by Tal y Llyn ^^; Lets just say he was beginning to remember on his own, or at least feel like something was below the waters that had once commanded his attention, k? I'm too lazy to write that in there so I just felt like noticing it. Reviewers will get nice Will-shaped cookies.  



	4. By Myself

A/N: Okay, thanks for being so patient! I know you've been waiting for this one, but however I have to reply to some reviews first...  
  
Huinesoron: Thanks for mentioning the problem with the terrain I've laid out ^^; No, I haven't ever been to Tal y llyn...so it would be really cool of you if you could offer a possible alternative for my nonexistant cliff. Thanks!  
  
Max Krugman: Oookay. Apart from the error of not putting Susan Cooper into a god-like state, I must refrain myself from lashing out here. There is no way in HELL I have enough time to write 10 pages to progress a plot I could have done in 2, and 30!? Look, this is fanfiction, not a novel, and I'm a student, not an author! I do this on my spare time (which is juggling between school, a band and a good number of other fics) and I can tell you that this entire story will be lucky to exceed 15 pages. Thanks for reviewing =)  
  
_ ...seems to fall away..._  
7 trees grew around the tower Jane now stood before, suddenly very much alone.  
The great trees grew in an irregular circle around the shining tower, rising like an island from a green sea. She felt as if she were standing up to a great power, staring at it, but so inwardly humbled... she could hear voices from the other side. But she didn't move, caught between fear and relief.  
Two men came abruptedly around the corner, walking a few steps and then suddenly stopping on the sight of Jane. They were both lean, neat figures in black clothes, one had a short grey beard and the other was cleanshaven. A hood hid their eyes from view, giving them what would have been a sinister look had there not been a strange sense of neutrality shimmering around them. The the bearded man held a bundle of cloth in his hands.  
"You," he spoke softly, "are the Second, are you not?"  
Jane looked at him, and suddenly nodded her head cooly, as if she had suddenly remembered that her world was one much different then the one she had pretended to share. And she had, really, remembered the tale of the Light now...the surroundings still felt bizzarely unfamiliar, but for the still wheel before the door of the tower, which bore the sign of a circle divided into 4 parts.  
The man stepped forward, carefully pulling away a bit of the blanket to reveal a small, unnaturrally pale baby. It was crying softly and shaking slightly.  
"The Dark has not been eliminated from all times, maiden." The other man spoke for the first time. Jane instantly liked him; his voice was soft and musical, although she only allowed herself to dwell on that for a moment before turning to the baby, concerned.  
The other man stepped forward, and Jane looked curiously at the pale baby. His eyes were hauntingly familiar - very golden, contrasted to the pale face...of course. There was only one person who looked like that.   
"What," started Jane slowly, "is happening to him?"  
"The Dark hopes to inhibit his natural course of life by putting him under this spell...it's like having your mind sucked out of you," the man said with a strange sense of a void where there should have been emotion, as the feel of neutrality in his voice was strong. "And," he motioned behind Jane. "HE is here."  
Jane blinked and looked over her shoulder. There, leaning against a tree, was a man with not only flaming red hair, but clothed in a red cloak and by a strange red horse. She had never seen a horse that shade; it was just as crippling to the sight as Bran's lack of color. The man grinned cryptically at Jane and shrugged, like he was supposed to be there. Yeah, just a bright red guy in the middle of a mild field.   
The man stood up tall and just looked at Jane casually, not moving his eyes, but there was some unseen sense of force behind them that was not apparent without a careful look. He walked slowly, his shadow cast was strangely faded out. He lifted his arms, and Jane was suddenly thrown back against the castle. She slid and fell onto the ground next to the giant wheel in front of the door.  
"Second of the rhyme, why do you come here, thinking you will find the Sign?" The red man leered at her horribly, his actions all awfully humbling. "I am the Red Rider. There is no passage for your insignificant quest any longer."  
Jane struggled to stand up and reached out, grabbing the closest thing - the bronze wheel that stood before the door. Instantly, it began to spin, shaking Jane's hands away from it and almost throwing her back to the ground. It was speeding up, furious in it's power - there was no axle to support it, no explaination for such a strange sight.  
Jane peered at the wheel, noticing in the corner of her eye that the 'Red Rider' was staring at the wheel openmouthed. The wheel was pulsating, melting, shrinking into a much smaller circle which began to slow down. And she saw what it was; the smooth, dull Sign of Bronze; the very sign she had held before the tree. On impulse she reached out and seized it, it came away easily, as if nothing had been holding it up at all.  
She stepped down slowly, seeing the Red Rider still frozen in horror. Looking at the baby, she somewhat needlessly dramatically held the Sign before the crying baby. Now, it's movement stopped, it was cured.  
"Ah...thank you, Jane," said the clean-shaven man.  
"Will he be alright?"  
"I think so..." the man winked. "He may, however, have a severe fear of mirrors."  
The man in red gave a horrible cry of rage and both horse and rider disappeared.  
  
A/N: Sorry if the writing got a little shoddy, I've rewritten this a few times and it doesn't sound right still. The Red Rider is not supposed to sound contrived, although he comes off like that no matter what I do =( So it'll have to work for now.   
  
One more thing. *hands out Will-shaped cookies to previous reviewers*  



	5. One Step Closer

A/N: Chapterness! Thanks to all who reviewed! Huinesoron, I'll change Bran's chapter in a bit. Right now, RO calls =E  
  
Merriman began to worry. In his mind, it was taking Will far too long to lift the enchantment on the Drews. Grumbling a bit about recklessness use of magic by 'youngsters', he slowly turned back to the smooth, clear orb and glared at it. It probably would have scuttled away, were it able to.  
Something surprised him about Jane's vacant expression while Will pushed force into his spell. She seemed altogether too motionless, like someone who had mentally traveled across time. What exactly was this effect that Will's spell was having on her mind? A few thoughts crossed his head, but he ruled them out almost immediatly when he saw Simon, standing a few feet away with the exact same expression.  
  
Simon stood now behind Bran and Will, who he recognised from the enigmatic trip they had taken to Wales. The shock of the sudden change in surroundings had made him seize out for something to grasp, but his hand had simply jumped around Will's shoulder - giving him a strange feeling that he was watching a movie about something that had happened before, only being part of it...He stared at the two, because they were squinting as if someone had just shone a bright light into their eyes, and Bran was breathing hard like he had just faced something he feared.  
A soft voice spoke warmly from the shadows; "And you did find your way."  
As the man spoke to the boys, Simon took a good look at where he was. It was a high, vaulted hall with rich tapestries and brilliant paintings hanging on the white walls. Behind him there was an immense carved door.  
He saw the man pull one of the tapestries aside to reveal a corridor with a staircase. He slipped in behind Will and followed the three endlessly; the stairs curved randomly often, and they climbed for so long that he could hear Will's breath getting short from the incredible height. Finally the man stopped before a door and pulled out a heavy iron key - a huge key adorned with a circle quarted by a cross.  
"Ah, Old One," spoke the man softly. "The Lost Land is full of signs from long ago, but few of it's people now remember what the signs mean."  
He opened the small door and let Will and Bran step past him, like prisoners emerging from jail. He stopped there and looked at Simon full in the face.  
"So comes the Third? We weren't expecting you so early..." he fumbled with the key a little, and then reached out with it in his hand with the circle peice pointing toward Simon. Simon reached out shakily and grasped the circle, and as he did it broke away from the key, leaving him with only the Sign, a Sign he could now use his newly reborn memories to recognise as the Sign of Iron.  
The man gave a quick kind smile that seemed to renew Simon's strength. He quickly stepped through the door and up to the balcony. Simon stared at the Iron one more time before he felt himself fading.  
  
What was going on? Merriman had just observed the strange appearance of Simon and Jane when he saw Barney doing something very strange. He had his case of wood - rowan if Merry remembered correctly, in fact it was a gift from him that he had picked up on his travels. Barney held it now in his hands and was staring at it intently, as if he were looking for a specific pattern in the grain of the smooth wood.  
Merriman shook his head and turned away from the orb, just missing Barney's next action. He seemed to have found what he was looking for, and he reached out with his hand and traced the shape of a circle and a cross over the wood. The wood where his finger had traced over began to glow brilliantly, and it fell away from the case and to the floor of the car, now clearly the Sign of Wood.  
  
Gwion watched the boys scramble down the trapdoor in the floor for a moment before closing it and turning back to the library-type hall where many inhabitants of the Lost Land idled at. He had told the boys that he would learn what he could of Merriman, and indeed he would; but first, there was someone to take care of. He stepped into the empty wall, feeling another presence cross the invisible barrier with him. He had been right.  
"Show yourself, Rider," he commanded coldly.  
There was a shimmer of red, and then a man appeared, alone. He leaned against the wall, so incredibly sure of himself, regardless that he was a mortal of an opposing force facing one of the Wild Magic. He smirked at Gwion.  
"So very brilliant of you Taliesin," he began, voice wet with sarcasm. "Wouldn't have thought you were capable of finding an enemy force station right in front of your nose." He let the last few words flow softly in mockery.  
Gwion flinched slightly but smoothly covered it up with a cough. "And I wouldn't have thought you were capable of remaining silent for as long as you have."  
The Red Rider pulled forward a bit. "You-"  
"Just go away, Rider. The Third is gone. You are too late."  
The red man lurched back and hissed through his teeth. "You will regret these actions, bard," he spat out before vanishing in a puff of void.  
  
A/N: First to review gets the leftover sugar sign belts!  



End file.
